It looks like you've been hurt
by zombie room
Summary: Derek gives Scott a lift.
1. Chapter 1

[A/N: Set sometime in the future. Light emotional hurt/comfort? Warnings: references to canonical abuse and character deaths.]

* * *

Derek is on his way to pick up a batch of mandrake roots when he spots Scott by the road. Carrying a bike. The lack of traffic makes it easier for Derek to turn his car around. Taking the back roads tends comes in handy.

When he reaches Scott, Derek rolls down his window. "Hey, what's up?"

"I got a flat," Scott says. He adjusts the grip on he has on the bike.

"Where's Stiles?" Derek asks.

"I forgot my phone."

With the tired way Scott looks, Derek knows that going in on why always carrying a phone is important would be a redundant point to make.

Instead Derek says, "I'll give you a ride." He pulls up to a stop on the shoulder of the road, popping the trunk open for Scott. Derek's errand can wait until later. It's not a matter of life or death this time. While he waits for Scott to put the bike in the trunk, Derek lets his contact know of the change of plans via text.

The passenger side door opens as Derek puts the phone back in his pocket.

"Did you have plans?" Scott asks as he buckles himself in.

Derek shrugs. "Nothing important." He checks the rear-view mirror before he turns back on to the road.

There's a vague smell of the ocean on Scott. "Did you go to the beach?" Derek asks.

"No," Scott replies, but he doesn't elaborate.

There is something off about Scott. When they're closer together like this it becomes more noticeable to Derek. Scott looks guarded in a way that he hasn't in a while - not protecting himself for an attack, but from something personal. It doesn't sit right with Derek. There's only a few things that can make Scott act that way.

"Did you and Stiles have a fight?"

"No," Scott says. He's looking out the window at the scenery, but Derek can see Scott's drawn up expression reflected in the window.

Derek knows not to push when Scott gets monosyllabic.

Silence fills the car.

* * *

Scott clears his throat after a while, and Derek shifts his attention from the road to Scott.

"My class got cancelled, and I felt like taking a nap." Scott shrugs, but the change in his breathing belies his nonchalance. "When I got to my dorm, there was a message on the machine. From my dad."

Derek realises it's not salt water from the sea he'd smelled. It was tears: Scott had been crying.

"I thought I was over it."

Scott never talks about his dad. All this time Derek had worked under the assumption that he was dead.

The way Scott shifts in his seat and tries to look like he's not going to bad place in his mind; it makes Derek's mind goes there for him. For a moment, imagining the worst case scenario, Derek wishes Scott's dad actually was dead.

"It's okay if you're not," Derek says.

"I want to be," Scott says.

Derek thinks of his own family. Of how he still waits for that day for it to hurt a little less. "Me too."

Scott turns to look at him with a small smile in place. There is something inside Derek's chest that tears apart at the sight of that smile. It looks like someone trying to put a band-aid over a person that's bleeding out. Derek wonders how they could get through so many battles relatively unscathed, when it's humanity that does the worst damage.

The turn-off into town comes into view. Scott's heartbeat picks up and his breathing stops - Derek can almost feel it himself how much Scott doesn't want to go back just yet.

They pass the turn-off. Scott's relief washes over Derek too. Much in the same way the sun makes him feel: warm and sated.

"Thanks," Scott says.

Derek tightens and then loosens his grip on the steering wheel. "No problem." He turns on the radio. Eventually he settles on a station playing music he can stand to listen for longer than a beat.

Scott has gone back to looking at the scenery.

* * *

The soft snoring coming from Scott mixes in with the sound of the engine. Derek looks over and watches as the low-hanging sun filters through the trees illuminate Scott's face in jagged shadows. When they drive past a field, the sun gives Scott's hair a soft glow; making it look like he's wearing a halo. All it does is make Derek want pull Scott close to him. Maybe by doing so some of Scott's goodness will seep into Derek.

Derek passes the turn-off for the third time. He keeps driving well into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I finally had some time to write, and I poked my girlfriend into doing the beta work. The rest of the chapters up until the last will be from Scott's POV. Warnings: one mention of mild gore.

* * *

It's the wind that wakes Scott up. The howling pulls him out of a doze. There's drool on his cheek and he wipes it away, but it leaves a wet patch on his shoulder he can't rub out. Everything is dark but for the street lights that line the side-walk. They burn an afterimage against the back of Scott's eyelids, and he wonders how late it is.

Scott can see his house up the road. It looks smaller, surrounded by the dark, almost as if the night is ready to devour it.

"You brought me home," Scott says. He looks at Derek, but he hasn't moved; he's just staring out into the distance. Even though Scott's eyes have adjusted to the dark, Derek is just a silhouette against the light from the street.

Derek still doesn't move. "Yeah."

The darkness covers everything, muting Scott's senses. The remnants of his dream still linger like cobwebs, sticking to the edges of his mind and bleeding into reality.

"It's almost funny," Scott says after a moment. He lets his eyes scan the trees along the street, watching as the branches sway in the wind. "I keep expecting to feel the pain from a wolfsbane bullet stuck in my side."

Derek finally turns to face him. Scott doesn't need to look at Derek fully to know his eyebrows are lifting in that way that says you don't make sense, but I'm not going to mention it.

Scott clarifies, "I think the only times I'm in your car is when one of us is bleeding out from a magic attack. You always bring me to my mom's first even though Deaton is closer."

He hopes Derek hears the gratitude in his voice. Scott doesn't want to see home through the eyes of pain. Though this isn't a physical pain, Derek still brought Scott to a place where someone can care for him. Scott wonders when he first started to associate home with blood and guts.

The worst part of it is the look on his mom's face whenever he comes through the door, barely holding in the linings of his stomach. Like Scott isn't the one being torn apart - his mom is.

It doesn't matter how many times she tells Scott that he should always come to her first, his first instinct will be to hide this horrible world from her.

That look of anguish disappeared with his dad, but Scott brought it back. This isn't another thing his mom needs to be strong about - because of him.

Scott can feel that familiar guilt creep under his skin. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and he holds onto that feeling - will gladly let it distract him from worse things. Like memories of how his father treated them.

Scott unbuckles his seatbelt and tries not to think about how the feeling of safety disappears with the click.

"Thanks," he says, but pauses on the door handle when he hears a creak as Derek tightens a hand around the leather of the steering wheel.

"If you need a ride tomorrow," Derek says, "you can call me."

Derek isn't really talking about a ride, and they both know it.

Scott looks back at Derek over his shoulder for a moment, before nodding. "I will." He shuts the door behind him as soft as he can, walks up to his porch, and starts looking for the spare key they've taped under one of the potted plants.

All the while, Derek hasn't started his car or driven off. Scott doesn't look back as he lets himself in, but he keeps the front door open, letting light from the street filter through. Dim as they may be, he doesn't feel like turning on the lights even though his mom has the night shift. He punches in the security code for the alarm system, grateful that it hasn't changed since last he was home. With the hand on the door, ready to close it, he stops to look out. He can't see Derek yet he knows he's looking back.

The door closes with a click.

It's not until after Scott's kicked off his shoes and jeans, and settling himself in his bed, that he hears Derek start the car.

Scott lets the sound of Derek driving away tune out his thoughts. He'll have tomorrow to worry about how Thanksgiving is nearly upon them and that his dad already has a ticket for the week after.


End file.
